


Closer

by sunalso



Series: Moth to Flame [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: 5x02, Buffy needs a break, F/M, Frottage, Massage, Season/Series 05, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 10:11:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15289248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: S5 AU. Near the end of 5 x 02. Buffy’s been under a lot of stress lately, and the urges she’s having just won’t go away. Luckily, she knows where to find some relief.Beta'd by Gort.





	Closer

Buffy stared at the door to Spike’s crypt.

Riley had called her tense, which she was, about a lot of things. Luckily, he’d put the blame for the tension on her dealing with Dawn. Which was a tense and annoying, situation, but that wasn’t the half of it.

Her cravings hadn’t stopped.

She smoothed her hands down the front of her blouse. She’d wanted the bone-deep desires to fade. Drac and his freaky blood and you’ll-be-my-bride thing had left her pining for the feel of a demon. She’d thought once would be enough. One easy to forget, no clothes came off, frantic hump against the wall with…a vampire.

It hadn’t been enough.

She’d dreamed of Spike every night since then. His scent. His voice.

When she’d stopped by the crypt earlier in the night to strongarm some information out of Spike, even punching him had been a turn on. Thankfully, he hadn’t acted as if he’d known.

Dawn was now safe in her bed. Harmony’s gang was dust, even if she’d scampered off, and Buffy had been left shaking with need. She’d almost called Riley and had picked up the phone only to set it back down in its cradle immediately. A heartbeat, warmth, and some inept pawing wasn’t going to cut it.

This was Dracula’s fault she reminded herself. Not hers. And Spike was simply convenient.

It had nothing to do with his broad shoulders…or dreamy blue eyes…or the hardness in his jeans…

Between her legs, her clit throbbed.

Damn it.

Buffy gave up pretending this wasn’t exactly where she wanted to be.

The door opened easily, and she shut it with a soft click. The TV Spike had been fussing with was showing nothing but static, and he was sprawled in his chair in front of it, fast asleep. It wasn’t even four am. Some big bad he was. The Slayer had just walked into his crypt, and he hadn’t even woken up. Unless he was faking. She tiptoed over and looked down at him.

Nope, he was out like a light. It was totally unfair how thick his lashes were fanned out against his cheeks. Or that he looked kind of adorable relaxed in slumber.

She shook her head. Sheesh, a guy gets you off one time—well, several times, but they were all a part of the same, er, time, so to speak, so that didn’t count—and suddenly he’s all cute and stuff. Whatever.

Buffy straddled his lap. Spike yipped as he woke up.

“Slayer,” he said, eyes wide.

“I need the thing.” She tried very hard not to sound whiney. She hoped he wouldn’t ask her to tell him exactly what she wanted, that she needed to get off by rubbing on him. It was embarrassing enough to want it, let alone speak it out loud.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked, yawning.

She wrinkled her nose. Spike’s hair was all messy, and he was still sleepy. The eyelids-at-half-mast thing really worked for him. “Yeah.” Fire spread through her belly, and her pussy ached with need.

“You dust Harm?” he asked.

“No, she ran away, and don’t talk about her right now.”

Spike raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“I just need the thing, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“I don’t think so, Slayer.”

Buffy’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t refuse her, could he? They had a deal.

“You didn’t use the magic word, and I want to renegotiate. Or you can find another vamp to get your jollies with.”

She groaned. “Have it your way. I want the thing, please.” She wiggled slightly as desire flared even brighter in her core.

Spike sniffed. “You want it bad.”

“Please,” she murmured again. She should probably be more upset over Spike smelling how wet she was, but she was so turned on she could smell herself. Which was so not what she wanted to be focused on right now.

“You all slick with cream for me, kitten?” he asked, smirk in place.

She swiveled her hips. “Yes. Please.”

His hands landed on her hips, and she whimpered as Spike tried to push her back.

“What?” Buffy gasped, desperate.

“We renegotiate, or you can go home to your six-foot-tall dildo.”

She groaned. What the heck would Spike want? Hopefully, it wasn’t something weird or expensive. Her body was screaming to feel him, so she sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “What do you want?”

“I want to change the rules about touching. I want to be able to grab your ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“My hands, on your arse. Both to keep you from falling, and because I bloody want to.” The last was almost a growl, and his demon briefly flickered over his face. The naked need in his voice stoked her lust.

“Okay,” she breathed. It really wasn’t much. She could be generous, and her decision had nothing to do with wanting to feel Spike’s hands on her, clutching her to him as she rode his—

She was panting.

Spike hooked a finger into a loop of her jeans. “It would feel better if you took these off.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m not following suit, just thought you’d get more out of the bump and grind in only your knickers.”

Why did he have to be right? It would feel much better with one less layer. Grumbling, she got to her feet and pushed her jeans down and stepped out of them, leaving her in her red satin panties. Spike only looked mildly surprised, the jerk, but then she realized her was gripping the armrests of the chair tightly enough to indent the upholstery. Her eyes went to how the front of his jeans was bulged out.

Nice.

Her nipples puckered against the fabric of her shirt and Buffy fondled her breasts, rubbing her palm against the tips. It’d been a great decision to leave her bra at home.

Spike was watching avidly. “You wanna do that up here?” he asked, voice inviting.

Did she ever.

Buffy climbed back onto the chair, her knees on either side of his hips. Arching into her hands, she grunted as she ground down against his erection.

“That’s it, Slayer,” he murmured. His hands went to her lower back, and one slid down to cup her ass. His cold fingers gripping her was overwhelming. It felt right.

“Spike,” she gasped as she rolled her pelvis. His cock pressed against the zipper of his jeans and it was providing more than enough stimulation to her clit. She rocked hard and fast, letting go of her breasts to grasp his shoulders.

Spike’s eyes were closed, and his head was lolling back against the chair. His other hand moved to her rear, and he stroked and kneaded her ass. His touch, his skin on hers, it made her burn. Except for his hands, he was hardly moving, his hips only occasionally twitching up towards her. Buffy was the one driving things forward with how she was moving. It was her pace.

This was all her.

She was the one humping a vampire and cheating on her boyfriend. Sort of. She and Spike weren’t kissing. And it wasn’t her fault, none of it. She had to have this, or she couldn’t do anything else. Couldn’t be a daughter, sister, or Slayer.

And Spike wouldn’t tell. He hadn’t after the first time, and if he hadn’t then, he wouldn’t now.

Buffy whimpered and moved her hips in tight little circles, pushing hard against his cock. She was wet with need, the crotch of her panties soaked. Her body was coiling tighter, working towards completion.

Spike trailed a hand up her spine under her shirt, and he pressed his palm between her shoulder blades. His eyes popped open, and he frowned.

“You’re all knots,” he said. “You need to relax.”

She mewled and undulated against him.

“Right, that first.”

He sat up and growled, the sound going straight to her core and she moaned. He was lifting his hips and grinding against her with each trust. She whimpered, riding him shamelessly, seeking her release, which she couldn’t quite reach.

Spike tilted his head and buried his face against her neck. His breath puffed out, cool against her skin. His lips moved, slowly, and blunt teeth pressed against her throat.

Buffy gasped. Yes!

Her thighs quivered, her belly clenched, and bliss erupted inside her. She came hard, her limbs uncoordinated as she shuddered through the pulses of pleasure.

Spike was grunting and rutting against her with abandon until he collapsed back against the chair with a loud groan. He went completely limp, his arms hooked over the sides and his head flopped back, a dreamy look on his face.

Well, that was that.

Her incessant drive to be intimate with a vampire had stopped. Hopefully, for good this time and she could go back to being regular, good Miss Buffy.

She started to stand, but Spike’s hands caught her hips.

“Just a mo’, Slayer,” he said. “Can’t let you leave yet.”

He was still sunk into the seat with his eyes closed. Since he wasn’t looking at Buffy, she felt she could spare a few more seconds to see what he was up to. He leaned slightly to one side and brought a bottle of lotion out from under his chair.

Oh, ew, she could guess why that was there.

Spike squeezed her hip before he let go to dump a dollop of lotion into his hand. He tossed the bottle away, rubbed his palms together, and slid his hands up her back under her shirt. The cold made her suck in a startled breath, but Spike’s fingers were gentle as he rubbed her, and her body heat quickly warmed the lotion. It smelled faintly of lavender, and the scent helped her relax.

Buffy tipped forward against Spike. Snuggling against his shoulder, she let out a little sigh.

He worked methodically, soothing the stress away from her muscles. It was undemanding. He didn’t ask what had put the knots there to start with or badger her about how she was dealing, or not dealing, with her sister, friends, Watcher, or mother. There were no questions about classes, training, or Slaying. Just the slow, steady glide of his hands.

All the things she’d been so worried about seemed to float away.

Eventually, he stopped, but he kept his hands on her. Buffy yawned. She was so comfortable she could probably fall asleep, safe in Spike’s…

She pushed herself upright.

There was no safe in Spike’s arms.

He was looking at her, eyes wary.

“Um, thanks,” she mumbled. “I have to go now.”

He nodded.

“Thank you, see you later,” she said, standing to pull on her pants. At the door, she looked over her shoulder. Spike was leaning forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees and his eyes on her. She waved, and one corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

Buffy let herself out and shut the door behind her before turning towards home, where her responsibilities were waiting. At least her body was satiated. And relaxed. Totally relaxed.

God was she relaxed.

Buffy giggled as she meandered among the tombstones.

She’d feel bad about what she’d done later, right now, for once, everything was okay.


End file.
